The Breeze

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


What is the breeze other than

children’s laughter,

last breaths,

and lover’s kisses blown

as hopes and despairs

in the same desirous language

the world over?

Wing beats of butterfly and bird,

and the angel you refuse to acknowledge,

all trying to nudge

the Wanderer of you

into the vacant arms of The Great Mystery.

Leaf slides against leaf

like a bow rides a string during

the third course of

instrumental love making.

“Shhhhh,” they say to every other name

but the one that has been

trying to reach your parched lips

since the moment of your

well-intended conception.

It could all begin with

the nerve endings

in your skin.

When will you stop ignoring

that which touches you?

© 2011-2016/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" 
www.hiraethpress.com

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To Be Moved

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Finally I have meditated

long enough

to realize

stillness is a ruse.

Everything riding this

rotund blue dervish

is in constant motion.

What the honeysuckle-infused breeze

asks of us

is not contemplative passivity,

But an active surrender to the possibility

of being moved.

© 2011-2015/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in"Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (www.hiraethpress.com)

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Akhilandeshvari’s Crocodile

Photo: Akhilandeshvari - Hindu goddess "Never Not Broken"

Sometimes it seems like

your entire world is

in a tail spin.

Everything moves so fast that

focus and certainty

become nothing more than the

theoretical constructs

you obligingly recount

in stories wailed to your old self

with a sense of foolish piety.

Welcome aboard.

You’re riding the scaly back

of Akhilandeshvari’s crocodile.

Around and around you go.

Weeeeee!

Let’s See:

How many pieces have you broken into?

Count them.

There’s a pretty good chance

that the head has been severed

at the neck

and the heart has been

sliced open.

“Cosmic surgery!”

gleefully shout the mystics

in all the Truth traditions.

“Spinning,

when invoked with courageous intent,

can nourish the body and soul,”

they say.

Have you not noticed

the feverish whirl

of their dance,

instruments,

and tongues?

Torn apart from the masks,

self betrayals,

and toxic aphrodisiacs

in all forms and strides,

Your inventory will reveal that

all that no longer serves

has been purged from your

own reptilian being.

It is impossible for you

to reconstruct

what was.

Yeah!

Congratulations –

you’ve had a complete break down.

The dark ferryman will help you

disembark from the crocodile

at the next bridge crossing.

When he does,

look for the sign.

It will read something like this:

“Only you know the way.”

Oh, and re-member to thank

the crocodile.

If you look closely,

you’ll catch a glimpse

of your indestructible beauty

reflected in his tears.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

Published in "Wild Life: New and Selected Poems" 

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